


Wake (Or Whatever)

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Campaign (Podcast), Illimat (Board Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Egomania, Grief/Mourning, Other, Panic Attacks, tonal whiplash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 17:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21280283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: This is extremely counter intuitive to the sexcapade.
Relationships: Gable & Travis Matagot, Gable/Travis Matagot Implied, Travis Matagot/Original Male Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	Wake (Or Whatever)

**Author's Note:**

> travis matagot is consistently #goingthroughit

After, surprising hopefully no one, he goes on a bender.   
  
Okay, it's not really a bender, it's more like a sexcapade. He'd have to be doing way more drugs for it to be a bender. Sure he drinks, but no one serves him anything to actually be worried about in the day time. Gable and Jonnit can worry about the bird festival or the rules or the cargo or whatever, he's not reliable. Everyone knows that.   
  
He's glad that all of it happened in the middle of a festival where his debauched tour from brothel to bordello to escort cafe (whatever that was) is looked upon as just another weirdo getting too excited during the holiday.   
  
He's not mourning, really, its more like intensive and immediate therapy. It's like a wake, yeah, he can call it a wake. That sounds appropriate. Celebrating life. Not thinking about anyone's final moments, or the hell plane he got sent too. No one's doing that.   
  
All he really has to think about is where and how he wants to get laid, and move on.   
  
To the getting laid part.   
  
The brothel is nice, higher end, but who cares because he's loaded from flying a duck really good. The man he picks out is higher end too, tall, muscular, blonde and pretty. The dude can pick him up like he weighs nothing and Travis tips very well.   
  
“You know, I've always wanted to try that upside down thing-” He mumbles into the guys neck after round three.   
  
“The what?” He asks because, reasonable, and also because maybe Travis isn't making the most sense, and also maybe because not everyone has the refractory period of a crow.   
  
“Where you hold me upside down and I suck your dick.” He sits up, only barely lightheaded, and tries to find his hair ribbon. Wherever the fuck he threw that off.   
  
“You don't have to suck my dick.” The guy says, because he is really very nice and Travis laughs and puts a hand on his chest.   
  
“I'm aware.” There it is, on the floor by one of his boots. “You just have a great one. Anyone ever tell you that?” He leans over the bed, almost falls out of it if it wasn't for the guy grabbing his ankle last minute. He just laughs again.   
  
“Once or twice.”   
  
“Only once or twice?” Doing his hair up is easier in front of a mirror so he'll just try his best. Or his worst. Who cares. He looks great regardless of what his hair is doing. “Get better customers.”   
  
“I'll... try.”   
  
Fair.   
  
“So seriously, can you hold me upside down while I-”   
  
Which is roughly when the door flies open and Gable stares at him, angry. Fuming actually. Wow, he's never seen them this angry, their nonexistent wings almost seem to be flaring up behind them. He knew he forgot something.   
  
“Put some pants on, we're leaving.” And then Gable looks at the guy in the bed for a long moment, undoubtably flustered or something of the like. “Travis.” They snap.  
  
“I paid for the three hours. I don't plan on going anywhere with out a reimbursement for my time.”   
  
“Travis.”   
  
“I mean, that's just not good business practice right-” He waves a hand at the man, waiting for a name.   
  
“Travis!” Gable is up in his space now, definitely all up in his space, hoisting him up by the arm. Man, they're strong too.   
  
And blonde.  
  
“If you wanted to see me naked you really could have just asked.”   
  
“Travis!” Well, the fun had to end at some point. The dude guy hooker scrambles out of the room from the way Gable's voice booms out, and it does absolutely fill the entire space, like its solid and real and here, pressing down on him. He's pretty sure his ears are ringing. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”   
  
Oh, see, that's not.   
  
“Worried? About what? That I got my dick sucked too good because trust me, it was middling at best. I was just being nice.”   
  
“Travis.” They're distinctly quieter, now. “You didn't tell anyone where you went.” Right that thing he forgot to do. “Jonnit thought you got murdered.”   
  
That's not where this was supposed to go.  
  
Because now, their eyes keep staring at him, just at his eyes, instead of down, whatever, and they looks so unbearably sad.   
  
“Did you also think I got murdered?” He whispers- doesn't mean to whisper but after Gable's yell it's like any noise has to compete- and he pulls away, not- not to actually get away. Just to get Gable to stop staring at him. For five minutes. He needs five minutes. He needs air.   
  
This is extremely counter intuitive to the sexcapade.   
  
To the Wake or whatever.   
  
“No.” They say, voice light now, airy. “No.” They back away from him, like he's the one who interrupted their sexcapade and not the other way around. He looks away from them, because their hands are shaking and that's not supposed to happen- none of this is supposed to happen. “I'd never be so lucky.”   
  
If it's a joke, and it probably is because of the way they say it, it's a bad one.   
  
His heart is hammering in his chest and it's like he's a rabbit on the forest floor again, and all he can see are those horrific golden eyes.   
  
Is this a panic attack?   
  
He gets up- or off of the bed at least and finds his clothes, crumpled where he threw them two hours ago. This isn't how any of this was supposed to go. When Travis has his blouse back on but the buttons still undone, he glances at his traveling partner. Gable is staring at him. He can't keep their gaze for longer then a second.   
  
He still can't find his hair ribbon.   
  
His hands shake to much to get the buttons done up right so this is going transition into an open chest sort of look, and he and everyone else is going to have to live with that. His boots are hard to pull on- maybe he should finally get some new ones, after the decades these have lasted him.   
  
He'll wear his hair down.   
  
It's whatever.   
  
“Ready to go?” He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair, trying and failing to get the jitter out of his hand. “Or do you-” He swallows. “Do you want to rip me out of these and help me get my money's worth.”   
  
They glance at the bed, back at him, and then roll their eyes.   
  
“Jonnit is waiting at the help desk.”   
  
“You know.” He pauses in the door frame, looking them over head to toe, as judgmentally as he can muster right now, which can't possibly be vert much. “I don't care.”  
  
They follow him out into the crowded street, and he almost jumps out of his skin when Gable sets a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“Yes, you do.”   
  
He wants to whine, to tell them that he can't take this sort of thing right now, to just shrink into himself because he doesn't know what any of this bullshit that is happening in his chest is. But then he'd have to look scared again.   
  
And in public this time.   
  
“Whatever.”

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me you like it i need the validation
> 
> find me on[ tumblr ](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/) and [ twitter](https://twitter.com/licotain)


End file.
